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From donrock.myadventures.org
 
Then there was the man in Cambodia who backed himself right off the bench while acting all casual (and literally fell onto the pavement).
 
From donrock.myadventures.org
 
The man who was ridden with guilt and covered his face as we drove by as other men glared at us.
 
From donrock.myadventures.org
 
 
Then there was the man thought he was “The Right Man”.
 

From donrock.myadventures.org
 
The man who walked a woman back to a hotel.
 
From donrock.myadventures.org
  
and next, the man who left the park… because we prayed?
 
Yes.
 
There is a popular Wat in Phomn Phen, that is known for the trafficking of women and children. If you didn’t know different besides a place to offer sacrifices at the Temple (Wat) you would think it was a place for parents to take their children for shade, a place for men to grab a bite to eat or women to hang out and talk with friends. But no, dark likes dark. Parents are selling their children. Men are selling women. Women are selling themselves. Westerners are buying. 
 
During our short time in Cambodia, we visited this Wat. We’d circle it. Sometimes stopping to chat with someone, hand out a free bracelet, or take pictures. All the while we’d pray.
 
From donrock.myadventures.org

 

Due to the size of our group we split into smaller teams of 5. We walked to our left where we had spotted one Westerner specifically that grabbed our attention.  What were we planning on doing? Don’t know. We walked by praying. It’s not our job to say anything, not our job to judge. Then we stopped, only to be passed by him.  A few minutes later we continued to walk around the park and spy him again. This time we placed ourselves across from him a basketball court away.  We prayed. Not know what else to do and not knowing 100% why he was there. We had our assumptions. But we could be wrong. So we proceed with caution. Moving from that bench to continue the walk, we had to walk right by him.  We stopped and asked:
 
Me: Do you come here often?

Him: (In a thick accent) Its a peaceful place to rest and get shade.

Me: Is that why all the people are here with their children? I thought this was a temple for worship.
 
Him: Yes, its a temple and a peaceful area but if you go down the streets you will see a lot of sad, poverty. You should go there. Prostitution, people living on streetssad.

Me: Really? I heard that said of this area and that there is prostitution here and that sometimes children are here. Is that true?

Him: Here!? No! No! Not here! This is a peaceful place. Over there (he points away from the park) it happens.

Me: Oh. Are you from here? You seem to know a lot about the area? We are just visiting.

Him: Im not from here but have lived here for the past 10 years.

Me: Well, again, thanks for the information. We love the country and the people. Tomorrow we visit Siem Reap! Have a good afternoon!

And we left. Our hearts sank but knew there was power in prayer. 
 

We lapped the entire place and still had half an hour before we were to meet up with the rest of the team. I guess we will walk it once again. This time we climbed some of the steps. It wasn’t far before we spot him from behind. The steps descended right next to him. I’m sure to his dismay. We found another bench, pulled out our water bottles, and chatted. Sometimes to one another, sometimes it was a prayer. The clock was ticking and we had only a few minutes before we needed to leave. I was looking to my right towards the street when he walked by us resting on the bench and paused…
 
From donrock.myadventures.org
 
…”I’m leaving now. I’m going to lunch.” 
 
We watched him walk away. When he was no longer in our sight, we left our post and joined the rest of the team. It may seem small to some, but IF, IF he were there for any other reason other than a peaceful place to rest, his plans were spoiled. At least for that morning.
 
From donrock.myadventures.org

 

 
My heart breaks for these men. I think of him and others often and pray: Lord redeem… restore. 

All stories and pictures are provided by Connie Rock
 
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